


Interlace

by skyspecter



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:11:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyspecter/pseuds/skyspecter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long hair and windy days are never a good combination. Good thing Merrill has a solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlace

“Daisy? Don't your feet hurt from that?”

Merrill looks towards Varric, tilting her head to the side, ”From what?”

Varric glances to her feet, shaking his head. “Walking barefoot?” he asks again, adjusting his place on the rock he was currently sitting on, “never hurt your feet stepping on rocks?”

Merrill ponders on the question and lets out a small hum before replying, “Well, sometimes. It's not a problem though, nothing a small bandage won't heal.”

Varric was being silly, she thinks, looking down at her own feet. She wriggles her toes in the Wounded Coast's sand, enjoying the feel of them on the soles of her feet.  

She looks back up at him, leaning on her staff.

“Why don't you ever try walking without your boots?” she asks, looking at his leather boots, which he was in the process of removing sand from.

Varric pauses from his cleansing, and brandishes the boot he's holding, “Look at this, Daisy, a fine dwarven craft.” He rotates the boot slowly, eyes fixed on it, “would be a waste not to wear boots these gorgeous.”

“Plus,” he adds with a grin, going back to his task, “I make these look good.”

Merrill chuckles and gives him a warm smile, “That you do, Varric.”         

She looks around the Wounded Coast, hears the seagulls cawing overhead, smells the damp salty sea breeze, and feels the strong wind billow through her clothes. She wonders how long they'd have to wait. Hawke had said she and Isabela were just going to scout on ahead. But she'd overheard from Hawke that she actually just needed Isabela's help with getting a book of sorts.

Merrill wanted to pry but Hawke seemed awfully embarrassed. Maybe it had something to do with her starting to teach Fenris how to read. It was a good thing, really, Fenris seemed to smile more often instead of him looking like he was constantly smelling halla droppings.

She starts to drag her staff on the sand, unsure of what to do, until she notices the indents that it left.

Merrill smiles. Well, it would be one way to pass the time, she thinks. She fixes her grip on her staff, uses her foot to smoothen out the sand, and then starts drawing.

She starts off with her vallaslin first, plans to sketch halla horns later, and then maybe the wheels of the aravel. Varric just tweaks Bianca beside her, occasionally looking towards where Hawke and Isabela had went off to.

A strong breeze blows, and she lets out a cry. Varric looks to her, and then offers his condolences to her drawing.

She lets out a sigh then shakes her head, time for a different sketch then.

But the wind was constant along the coast today, and it felt very much like she was drawing on water instead of sand. She steels herself, then starts to make the lines deeper, thinking maybe it wouldn't be as easily blown away.

Yelling, followed by several curses that sounded very much like Hawke's makes her look up from her drawing.

Four giant spiders running down the pathway, with Hawke and Isabela fleeing from them.

“Oh dear,” she manages to pipe out before she prepares her rock armor. Rocks clatter on the ground, flying towards her direction, her small frame quickly becoming enveloped by them.

Hawke begins throwing several of her Acid Bombs towards the spiders, misses quite badly and yells at them instead. Isabela on the other hand, prepares her daggers, then faces the spiders until a sudden whip of wind blows her scarf off from her hair.

“Shit!” she yells out, her hair flying towards her face.

Merrill quickly casts a barrier on Isabela, and then follows up by summoning roots on the pathway to slow the spiders in their chase.

Isabela's scarf whips violently in the wind, until with a faint whistling sound and a heavy thud, her scarf suddenly becomes lodged onto a nearby tree, one of Varric's arrows holding it down.

A sarcastic “Thanks!” from Isabela, an even more sarcastic, "You're Welcome!" from Varric, and Hawke still yelling expletives in the background.

Merrill laughs, being with them was always so much fun! It was rather boring being by herself in her house. She hurls a small boulder towards one spider, smashing it against the sand, its feet wriggling weakly underneath it.

Hawke dashes forward, disappears in a cloud of smoke, then Merrill hears one spider's cry and a crumpling sound, and then sees its body rolling away on a downward slope.

Two down, two more to go.

Varric takes a long aim at another spider, carefully positioning himself. He breathes, shoots, and his arrow pierces through the spider's head. He lets out a bark of laughter and a praise for himself.

Isabela pulls her spare dagger from her boot, glares at the last spider and charges with a yell. She plunges her dagger at its head, and it screeches in pain, head whipping around violently. Isabela then grabs one of her axes from her back then cleaves through the spider's neck, finishing it off.

Merrill heaves a happy sigh, looking at the slight carnage around them, 'Oh thank the Creators.'

Her armor crumbles back into the ground and she steps out, dusting herself off.

Varric holsters Bianca at his back and chuckles, “So, how exactly did _that_ happen?”

Isabela looks towards Hawke and shakes her head. “Well, Little Miss Bookworm here was checking through some of the bags of the bandits we took care of.” She pulls out her daggers from the spider with a grunt, cringing at the guts still left on them.

“And then?” Varric asks, giving Hawke a pointed look.

Isabela gets some torn trousers from one of her satchels and cleans off her daggers. “And then,” she continues, “she was too enamored. Barely noticed the seven spiders that were nesting above the cave.”

Hawke merely shrugs, “Hey, don't tell me that you weren't busy with rifling through the chest we saw.”

Isabela ignores the comment and goes to her headscarf, pinned onto a tree with Varric's arrow. She dislodges it carefully, cringing at the rip the arrow tip left on it.

“Oh wonderful. A hole.'”

Varric shrugs, “At least it's still, er, _whole_.”

Merrill giggles, Hawke jovially slaps Varric on the back and Isabela rolls her eyes, poking at the rip in her scarf.

She pulls at the cloth, sighing when she sees the thread begin to unseam.

“Hard to look this good and battle-ready at the same time,” she huffs, trying to brush back her hair from her face, the wind still causing it to whip around.

Hawke hums beside her, “Cut it short?” she points at her own hair, still blowing in the wind, but not hindering her sight.

Isabela shakes her head, managing to wrestle her hair back into the scarf, “I'm rather... attached to my hair, as it were,” she smirks, and then winks at Merrill when she laughs at the joke.

Merrill runs a hand through her own hair, pauses, and then beams at Isabela.

“Do you want to try braiding your hair then?” she pipes up, smiling, "Or maybe I could braid your hair!"

She loves braiding, loves that her hands get to do something. Merrill does it every morning when she wakes up, used to braid Bethany's hair when she was still out of the circle, or back with some of the children in her clan, and Mahariel too.

Merrill shakes off her thoughts with a grin, waiting for an answer from Isabela, eyes wide.

Isabela hums thoughtfully, and when another breeze passes by, grimaces at the few strands of hair escaping the hold of her scarf. As the breeze settles down, Isabela moves towards Merrill while finally tucking in the last few stray hairs outside her scarf.

Tying a quick knot on the behind her neck, she gives Merrill a warm smile. “Kitten, that sounds like a lovely idea.”

 

* * *

 

Merrill bustles around her house, sweeping the floors, fixing her books, and when she runs out of things to do, she paces instead.

She was excited, really, very excited. It had been a while since she'd braided anyone else's hair besides hers... The last one was Varric and Bethany, around a year ago. But ever since that time, she hadn't really the chance. She'd have asked Hawke, but she could barely sit still for a minute, and it seems everyone had started to ask her on help regarding one thing or another.

Anders? She had supposed the long hair would have been fun but he probably would have hissed at her like one of the many cats in his clinic if she'd brought the idea up. Fenris on the other hand, aside from his short hair, would swat at her like a wee mosquito with his giant sword.

Sebastian? She had asked. He had declined, quite politely. Said something about how he would rather not have other people touch his hair.

Aveline was always far too busy, Bethany, oh, poor Bethany was in the circle. Varric she would have asked again, but he'd been doing several deals since their success in the Deep Roads. And lastly, Isabela. She wanted to ask, really she did, but she'd always end up a bit nervous and tongue tied. Until now, she supposes.

Merrill hears a knock on her door and she perks up, quickly walking towards it. She opens her door just a bit and peers outside, grinning and fully opening her door when she sees it's Isabela.

“You came!” she yells out, eyes wide, “I thought you wouldn't. I mean, I hoped you would! And you're here, so that's wonderful.”

Isabela shakes her head, smiling at her. “Wouldn't want to disappoint you, kitten.”

“Still,” Merrill pipes up, “thank you.”

She grabs Isabela's hand and pulls her inside, closing the door with her hip.

“Should we start now?” she asks, “Or, would you want something to drink first? I mean, I only have water I'm afraid and I don't have much food to offer either.” She lets go of Isabela's hand at this point, looking at her room instead, Oh, she really should have prepared more.

“Merrill.” Isabela calls out softly, as if sensing how frayed Merrill's nerves were right now. Which she was quite sure was very noticeable as she'd never been very good at trying to hide her emotions.

Merrill does look towards Isabela, blinking repeatedly, her fingers lightly twitching. “Yes?” she manages to ask.

Isabela lets out a warm chuckle, “Calm down. I'm not going to bite.”

Merrill nods. “Okay.” she says first, to Isabela. “Okay.” she repeats, this time more for herself.

“So,” she breathes out, definitely calmer this time, 'what would you like to do then, Bela?'

Isabela offers her a smile, “We can start, if that's fine with you.” she heads off to the long bench in Merrill's room and lounges on it, “Plus, already had a drink earlier at the Hanged Man, so no need to get me anything.”

Merrill nods and follows Isabela to the bench, sitting down and tucking her legs on top of each other. Isabela fixes her position, faces her back towards Merrill.

Merrill reaches out towards her Isabela's hair slowly, then runs her fingers through her curls and giggles.

“Your hair is beautiful Isabela.”

“Really?” Isabela chuckles, “It's a bit dry from all the sea air.”

“I think it's still lovely. Long and curly and it's so thick!” Merrill coos out, before she catches herself and lets out a small cough.

“Anyway, what kind of braid would you want? I know all sorts, although I don't remember their names, but I do know how to do them and-,” she pauses, again, berates herself in her mind, “I'm talking too much again, aren't I?”

Isabela offers her another smile, “It’s fine, Merrill, and I guess, just do what you think would look good on me.”

Merrill’s mind goes through the several patterns she knows, tries to imagine Isabela in them.  Eventually she murmurs, “Okay, I have an idea. It’s going to-”

“Hush, let it be a surprise,” Isabela replies, slipping off the scarf on her head.

Oh, Creators, she hopes she still remembers the pattern correctly.

Merrill parts Isabela's hair into two, then begins with her work. Take a few strands from one side, tuck over and under, repeat with the other side. She eventually slides back into a habit, her fingers making smooth work of the braid. It brings back happy memories for her, easier times, maybe, but she rather likes where she is now, even if life outside the clan was confusing, she feels more at home with her friends.

Not all of them liked her of course, but it was better than the entire clan talking behind her back, or Marethari thinking she was on some silly quest. She lets out a small sigh at that, for all she says about liking Kirkwall better, she still does miss her clan sometimes.

“Where'd you learn how to do this, kitten?”

Merrill stops for a moment, and she answers, voice slightly wavering, “Marethari.”

Isabela lets out an, “Oh.” and an, “Um.” followed by a, “Sorry, didn't mean to bring that up.”

With a shake of her head, Merrill just smiles even if Isabela can't see her, “It's fine.”

“Never thought of growing your own hair out?” Isabela asks, probably trying to change the topic.

She does let out a thoughtful hum at that, “Well, I've always been used to it being this short.” she lets out a laugh, thinking about what she'd look like with longer hair, “Plus, I'm not too sure what to do with all that hair. It could get caught in my staff while I'm fighting! I'd look awfully silly if that happens.”

Isabela chuckles at that, “Well, you could always just braid it.”

“I suppose I could.”

The conversation comes to a lull, and Merrill's thoughts wander to Isabela's suggestion. It would be nice, but she'd always liked her hair at its current length, wasn't a hassle during battle, it would never get too hot, and it would always dry off really quickly after she bathed. Although there were plenty of hairstyles she could try out if it were longer.

She stares at the back of Isabela's hair for a moment, wonders what she'd look like with shorter hair. Still beautiful of course, she thinks, and her face lightly flushes. Oh, she should _really_  focus on finishing up this braid.

Merrill finishes up with her task, tying the end of the braid with a small piece of cloth. She holds the braid in her hand, eyes trying to spot a mistake in the pattern, hopes that she didn't mess up, oh Creators, she hopes she didn't mess up.

“Um,” she pipes up quietly, “I've finished it.”

Isabela looks back to her with a grin, “Great, d'you have a mirror I can use?”

Merrill looks at Isabela blankly, Well, there was _that_ mirror but er, probably best not to show that yet.

“Oh! A mirror, yes, yes, I'll just, um.” she stands up quickly, heading off into her room to grab her smaller mirror, glancing at the Eluvian, covered up with a cloth in the corner. She shakes her head and heads back into the living room.

“Er, here,” she hands the mirror to Isabela, a little meekly, “I hope you like it.”

Please let her like it.

Isabela faces the mirror towards herself, and the look in her eyes soften as she touches the braid by her shoulder.

“Oh.. this is beautiful, kitten.”

“You,” she stammers, eyes wide, “you think so?”

“Yes,” Isabela smiles, putting down the mirror and probably sees the look of pure joy on Merrill's face, “yes it is.”

Isabela puts the mirror aside and walks up towards her, gently running a hand through her hair, “Honestly, Merrill, you worry too much.”

She presses a small kiss onto her forehead, and Merrill blushes quite deeply but she manages to look up and give a warm smile towards Isabela.

“I could teach you how to do it, if you want me to,” she shyly offers, wringing her hands.

Isabela’s hands slip through Merrill’s waist, pulling her into a hug and leaning her forehead against Merrill’s, looking into her eyes, “Kitten, that sounds like a lovely idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by several fanart on their different hairstyles. Also, Merrill does a fishtail braid on Isabela.


End file.
